


Flinch

by sexyhandsomejack



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Abuse, Abuse warning, Anal Sex, Choking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyhandsomejack/pseuds/sexyhandsomejack
Summary: Number 8 is an abusive tool towards Robbie while Sportacus is away from Lazytown. Sportacus comes back and finds out and basically this is hurt/comfort but if Abusive 8 isn't something you're okay with then this isn't going to be your sort of fic. The choking tag isn't for kink in this one and Eight comes close to forcing himself on Robbie so just a heads up before you read this. Nine makes a brief appearance. In my head the Ithros are all brothers and not father/son like some people write them and Glanni is Robbie's older brother.





	

“Okay, everybody be good, and remember to eat your sports candy!” Sportacus said, giving a big thumbs up to everyone in Lazytown. “I will be back next week!”

“Bye, Sportacus!” Stephanie said, waving goodbye. “Have fun in… wait, where did you say you were going?”

The hero winked. “To see my family!” Then, without further response, Sportacus dabbed, back flipped into his skychaser, and took off into the air, his legs pedaling so fast that they were nothing but a blur. The kids yelled out their goodbyes and kept waving as Sportacus flew away.

“Geez, I sure hope nobody gets into trouble while he’s gone,” Ziggy sighed. 

“This just means that it’s _our_ turn to be heroes!” Stephanie said.

“Yeah!” said Trixie. “We’re all the heroes of Lazytown now! All we have to do is watch out for Robbie Rotten!”

Stephanie frowned. “Trixie, that’s not very nice.”

Down in his lair, Robbie sneered. “Watch out for Robbie Rotten,” he repeated, as he peeked out of his periscope. “Well, you can’t watch out for _what you can’t see_!” He clapped his hands together once. “With Sportakook out of town, there’s nobody here to stop me… and even better, that idiot left his blimp here!”  
Sportacus had claimed that the spring weather was so nice that he’d rather pedal his skychaser all the way home instead of being stuck inside of his blimp the entire time. And while the rest of Lazytown had no idea where Sportacus was going, Robbie _did_ know, and he knew precisely how far away that place was.  
“Even if his crystal _does_ beep, he’ll be too far away to get back here in time!” Robbie said with a cackle. He leapt over the railing and collapsed into his orange chair. “Now, all I have to do is wait…”

Robbie waited until the next night. His alarm clock clanged at midnight, startling him out of a deep slumber that was full of dreams of a big, blue blimp falling out of the sky while engulfed in flames. He stood from his chair, stretched, then went to his row of disguises. 

“Too hairy… to scary… to fairy…” he muttered. Then he stopped at a deceptively simple disguise. 

_“Perfect,”_ he growled. 

The disguise was a one piece cat suit, made of dark black latex, with a pair of knee high leather boots. With a snap of his fingers and a pivot on his heels, his purple suit disappeared, replaced by the tight, form fitting cat suit. He examined himself in the reflection of the glass, a smirk turning up on his lips. “Maybe Glanni isn’t as clueless about fashion as I think he is…”

There was no more time to waste, so Robbie grabbed a small tool belt, buckled it around his waist, then made his way outside and through Lazytown.

The blimp hovered in the night sky, the windows dark, but the ladder was still descended and the hatch door was open. Sportacus had left it that way on purpose, claiming that he wanted to make sure that someone could get up to the blimp if there was an emergency. 

“Idiot,” Robbie said, grabbing the first rung of the ladder. There was a worrying tremble in his hands, his blood pumped full of adrenalin and nervous energy at the thought of having to scale the ladder alone. If he fell this time, there really wouldn’t be anyone there to catch him… but something about that thought made it all the more thrilling. In the pitch blackness of night, the cat suit let him blend into the shadows. Nearly invisible, he ascended the ladder one rung at a time, until he was at the very top. 

With a grunt, he hoisted himself up through the open hatch, glad to have his feet back on solid ground- or as solid as it could get in an airship. 

The bleak whiteness of the inside of the blimp was a thousand times more depressing in the dark. There was just… nothing. White walls, white floors, a few buttons here or there to press. Even the sportscandy, suspended in tubes on the wall of the kitchenette, seemed somehow dismal. 

“Yech,” Robbie said, sticking out his tongue. “Nothing here to look at but revolting fruits and vegetables!” He glanced around, wondering where the hell the actual controls for the airship were. He knew the ship was voice activated, but without Sportacus here, the ship would probably determine that he was an invader. He stepped down on a few of the white circles on the floor, until, finally, one of them made another hidden panel along the floor pop open. 

_“Bingo,”_ Robbie said. His heart began hammering in his chest when he saw all the controls hidden in the floor. He could tamper with anything he wanted to. Turn any green light red. If he wanted to get out alive, however, he had to make sure not to tamper too much. The ugly ship had to stay in the air long enough for him to escape, and it’d be even better if it stayed afloat for a few days, maybe even crashed in the middle of the day when everyone knew Robbie was asleep.

“I will have to keep the gloves on,” he said to himself, a bit frustrated at how his latex gloves made it awkward to hold his tools. There were just a little too confining, a little too slippery, but he refused to leave fingerprints. 

He traced a latex clad fingertip along one wire, following it to a pressure gauge. “Hell there, beautiful,” he crooned. Robbie reached to his tool belt and grab a screwdriver, opening up the metal box that the gauge was on. There was a nest of wires inside. “Just need to make sure it slowly, slowly deflates…” he said. He put the screwdriver to the side and grabbed a pair of pliers. He opened them slightly, then slipped a wire between the tool’s pipe grip. “Should be this one.” The wire slid limply through the pipe grip, but it was still exhilarating. Robbie was here. He was here, and he was alone, and he had a vital, _fragile_ wire clutched in his grasp. Robbie traced the pliers back and forth almost tenderly, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. He could do it right now. He could snip the wire. But it was so sweet, to savor this moment, to know that Sportacus would come back to Lazytown and see his blimp deflated across the earth like one of Bessie’s sheets that had gotten blown off of her wash line. 

Somebody cleared their throat. 

Robbie’s heart leapt into his throat. Frozen in place, his eyes traveled up from the control panel and settled on a pair of black leather boots.

 _No,_ he thought, his vision blurring around the edges. _...no no no! Damn it, NO!_

The toe of one black boot inched forward until it pressed down onto Robbie’s fingers. The pressure was firm, and instead of Robbie being able to drop his pliers, the tool was crushed between his fingers and the pressure gauge. 

Swallowing hard, Robbie’s eyes traced up the boots, up a pair of green pants, and up to a wide chest that was covered in a blue shirt, and then settled on a pair of narrowed, enraged eyes that bore down on him. 

“Hello, Ithro,” Robbie snarled. He grimaced as he tried to yank his hand free. “Didn’t think anyone was here. Isn’t your annoying brother supposed to be going to visit you?”

“Precisely why I offered to watch over this hell forsaken town while he came home,” said Ithro. He slid his foot forward, until the heel of his boot was crushing the bones of Robbie’s hand. “You’ve always been more trouble than you’re worth, Rotten. To think my brother _trusted_ you.”

“St- _stupid_ elf,” Robbie spat. The sharp pain in his fingers spread up to his elbow, turning the muscles in his arm to jelly. He buckled over to the side, trying desperately to wiggle his hand in any direction that might alleviate some of the agony. “Break my fingers, and Sportacus will find out what a monster you are!”  
“Oh, I’m not going to break your fingers, Rotten,” Ithro said, laughing lowly. “But I _will_ keep you here until you beg for me to do something else.”

The boot pressed down even harder, and Robbie gasped for air, his eyes clamped shut. “Let _go_!” he yelled, grabbing Ithro’s boot with his free hand. He pushed and pulled, but Ithro’s foot wouldn’t move. 

“Look at you, writhing on the ground, pathetic and useless,” Ithro growled. “I’ve not even started and you’re already breaking beneath me.” He rocked his body weight forward, making Robbie yowl. 

_“Stop!”_ Robbie all but screamed. “… _please,_ Ithro… please stop…”

Finally, Ithro lifted his boot, only enough to let Robbie slide his hand free. The release of pressure was like a rubber band snapping- there was relief at first, and then a split second later a wave of pins and needles shot up Robbie’s entire arm. Hissing, Robbie rubbed his hand and sucked on his fingers where Ithro’s heel had nearly broken through his skin. 

Ithro laughed darkly. “You little slut,” he drawled, his pupils blown wide and his nostrils flaring. “Look at you, sucking on your fingers with those pretty lips. Is this why you’re such a bother for my brother, making him chase you? You want to be punished, don’t you?”

“N-no…” Robbie stuttered, pulling his fingers out of his mouth. “What the fuck are you on about, Eight? You’re _insane._ ”

Ithro _tsked_. He reached down with one arm, grabbed Robbie by the collar, and tugged him up to his feet. Still weak in the knees, Robbie wobbled, trying to catch his balance, but Ithro kept him held just a bit too low, forcing Robbie to hunch over. Then Robbie was being tugged toward the kitchenette and, before he knew what was happening, felt his back slammed down against the counter. 

Ithro’s hand was still fisted in the latex between Robbie’s collar bones, shoving him down hard. Robbie flailed, trying to shove his weight upwards, but he was double over backwards, his knees bent at an angle so that his feet could barely find purchase on the floor. Instinctively, he threw his arms out to the side and gripped the narrow ledge of the counter. 

“Fuck, Rotten, you look so good like this…” Ithro said lowly. His eyes combed over Robbie, taking in every inch of latex clad flesh. “…so much like Glanni.”

Robbie’s eyes shot back open. “What the _fuck_?” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “You fucking _pervert_!”

Ithro laughed. “Don’t worry, Rotten, I would never fuck your brother.” His sneer fell, his lips pressing tightly together. “No, he’s far too caught up in playing his little games with Nine. I can never get close enough to him.” His fist opened, released the latex of Robbie’s collar, but immediately his fingers wrapped directly around Robbie’s throat. His thumb dug into the tender flesh below Robbie’s adam’s apple, pressing the breath out of his lungs. 

“Yes…” Ithro continued, using his free hand to capture first one of Robbie’s arms, and then the other, tugging them down so that Robbie’s wrists were pressing against his own abdomen. “…I think you like those games you play with my brother, don’t you? You love to make him chase you, and you love that smile of his, and his kind eyes… and the way that he touches you, holds you. You love to think that he’d be gentle with you.” 

Robbie tried to yell _"shut up"_ , but it came out as a garbled choking sound. 

“Do you think about him at night? Ithro went on relentlessly. “Do you fuck up against your pillow, picturing his arms around you while he takes you? Does it make you feel wanted?” 

There were tears now, hot and bitter, prickling at the corners of Robbie’s eyes. Ithro’s hand released his throat only enough that Robbie could gasp for breath, his chest heaving as he tried to arch his back away from the counter. The painful truth of it was that he had indeed thought of Sportacus on far too many nights. But, even after several years of Robbie growing more and more flirtatious, trying t be kinder and warmer, after years of Robbie hoping beyond measure that their friendship would turn into more… there had been nothing. It was a terrible, confusing thing to Robbie that dug a jagged knife into his heart. There were fleeting moments with Sportacus that made no sense to Robbie, when Sportacus would hold him, or dance with him, or gaze at him across the room with a particular longing in his eyes. On more than one occasion, Robbie could have sworn that Sportacus was about to lean in to kiss him… but then, in the blink of an eye, Sportacus had moved again, smiled, and simply left. 

_“I hate you,”_ Robbie snarled, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth. 

“There is a fine line between hate and love, is there not?” Ithro asked. “Indifference is the most dangerous feeling of all. But hate? Oh, you pretty thing… I can work with hate.” 

A startled panic was welling up in Robbie’s chest. His skin crawled with revulsion, and a bitter taste had crept up in the back of his mouth. 

_Stop stop stop…_ Robbie’s mind repeated unable to process anything else but the desperate, silent plea for Ithro to release him.  
Instead, Ipro’s grip tightened again on his neck, pressing, pressing, pressing… 

...and then, in the silence, Ithro’s crystal began to beep. 

Suddenly, Ithro’s hand let go. There was a minute of silence, and then there came another chirping sound. Ithro raised his wrist to his mouth, began speaking into the metal arm bracer that he’d borrowed from Sportacus. 

Robbie heard everything as if he was underwater. There was some garbled dialog back and forth, spoken in a language that Robbie couldn’t understand, and then came Sportacus’s short, warm laugh, the conversation blinking back out into silence as Ithro brought the arm bracer away from his lips. 

“Get out,” Ithro said, a dangerous tone to his voice. “You’re lucky he linked my crystal to his system, or I would have you right here.” 

The fact that Robbie made it back down to the ground safely was itself a miracle. When he crawled under the covers on his chair, he didn’t move for another day. 

Sportacus was gone longer than a week. Rain or shine, the hatch of the blimp was open, and Ithro standing in the doorway, arms crossed, peering down at Lazytown. Two weeks passed. The kids eventually began warming up to Ithro, though they seemed much more reserved around him than they did Sportacus. Already they were learning to walk on egg shells around the elf, realizing that Eight was far more intense than Sportacus ever was. 

Robbie quickly became home bound, hiding away in his lair and afraid to leave to even sit on the back of the billboard. His brain became a constant spiral of thoughts he couldn’t escape from, and he slept in fitful, unpredictable spells, sometimes caught in an unrestful half-sleep for only a few hours, and other times sinking into a deep yet trouble sleep, full of nightmares, for fourteen or even sixteen hours. He tossed and turned. He felt feverish. He felt parched. He felt both too tired to eat and too hungry to sleep. Time was too quick, then too long, then meant nothing at all. He felt the press of Ithro’s hand around his throat over and over again, heard the terrible thud thud thud of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as his breath was crushed out of his lungs... 

_Thud thud thud.  
Thud thud thud._

“Robbie? Are you home? I knocked, but nobody answered, so I…”

Robbie cracked open his eyes. His lair was a bright, smeared palette of gray, blue, and orange. One particular smear was very, very bright blue. 

“Sport?” Robbie croaked. His voice was dry and brittle, and his chapped lips cracked as soon as he opened them. When he licked his bottom lip to wet it, he tasted copper. 

At some point over the past week, he’d changed into his robe and pajama pants. He was both sweaty and chilled, and he wiped his bleary eyes on the cool silk of his robe, slowly adjusting to the light of the lamp that Sportacus had turned on. 

When his vision came into focus, he saw Sportacus staring back at him, gobsmacked, the hero’s eyes wide and unblinking. <

“...Robbie?” Sportacus asked softly. He took a few steps forward and reached out a hand. 

Robbie flinched. 

Sportacus stopped in his tracks. “Robbie, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

Bleakly, Robbie stared at Sportacus, unable to speak, unable to move. 

“Can I…” The hero started, then paused. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, his expression puzzled and worried; it wasn’t often that Sportacus didn’t know what to do, but Robbie knew he must have looked like death warmed over and that he smelled pretty much the same. “…can I sit here beside you?” Sportacus asked. 

Robbie didn’t answer. 

Slowly, Sportacus knelt down beside him, carefully reaching out again to brush a stray strand of hair away from Robbie’s forehead. 

Robbie flinched. 

Sportacus drew back again. Then he stood, went to Robbie’s fridge, and brought back a soda, a glass of water, some cheese and crackers, and what Sportacus probably thought was a scoop of trail mix from a jar on the counter, but was actually bird food. 

It was then that Robbie realized he was sitting on the floor. He blinked, looking down at the carpet he’d been sleeping on. Sportacus took the two orange pillows from the chair and put them on the floor next to Robbie. Then, silently, Sportacus sat down, legs crossed, ten feet away, his body turned partially away and his eyes watching the wall, his hands fidgeting nervously. 

Some time passed. Eventually, Robbie took the glass of water, drank the entire thing down in one breath, then popped open the soda and drank half of it, the sticky sweetness washing over his tongue and tasting as delicious as if he was tasting sugar for the first time in his life. The carbonation was bright, clean, crisp. It was cold and pleasant. It was familiar. 

Robbie ate a bit of cheese next. The crackers seemed off putting somehow. Then, at long last, a slow, small smirk quirked on his lips. “You can have that stuff you brought me in the bowl.” 

Sportacus scooted forward and took a handful from the bowl, palming it into his mouth. His eyes were sad and a little distant, and he stared at the floor as he chewed, his tongue working between his cheeks. 

Robbie snorted. “Idiot,” he said softly. 

The elf’s gaze flickered up. “Hm?” 

“That’s bird seed. You brought me bird seed in a bowl, and now you’re eating it.” 

There it was. That flash of _pissed off_ that sometimes lit up in the hero’s eyes. It was raw, pure, and wild, and only showed up when Robbie really caught him off guard. It was the look that Ithro had in his eyes far too often, one that was mixed with savagery, and before Robbie had gotten to know Sportacus, it was the look that made Robbie recoil from Sportacus’ touch. But at that moment it was an anchor; Robbie was lost at sea, and Sportacus, bold and brash and brawny, could be the weight that kept Robbie from drifting even further from shore. 

And, just as it always did, the anger in Ten’s eyes flickered out just as quickly as it came. His eyebrows raised, his lips quirked, and he tilted his head in a silent, gentle scolding. 

“You’re the one who served it to me, Sportflop,” Robbie said. 

After that, they were both silent for a long time. Robbie finished his soda in slow sips, staring off at his muted television. He could feel the elf’s eyes on him, wary and watchful. When he was done with the can, he wiggled the tab on it back and forth, until it broke off with a soft _ping_. He dropped it into the can. Shook it around. Rolled the can between his hands and listened to it crinkle. Then, when he grew tired of it, he put the can on the floor, set his hands into his lap, and sighed. He glanced over at Sportacus at precisely the same moment that Sportacus glanced over at him, and their gaze lingered. 

Robbie opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

“Robbie…?” Sportacus asked softly. His expression was soft, concerned, deathly worried, as if he were staring into some infinite void. When no answer came, the elf reached miserably back into the bowl of bird seed, picked out a few sunflower seeds, and popped them into his mouth. 

Robbie laughed. It started as one short, wheezing gust of air that came out of his lungs. Sportacus shelled a seed between his molars, cracking it open with a loud pop. He winked, puckered his lips, and spit the shell into the air, aiming for the soda can. 

The shell landed successfully in the hole of the soda can. 

Sportacus grinned, pumped both arms into the air, and yelled, _“Goooooaaalllll!”_

Robbie laughed harder, snorting and blushing, harder than he had ever laughed before in front of Sportacus. 

And then, quite suddenly, Robbie was crying. 

When Sportacus came and wrapped Robbie in his arms, Robbie didn’t flinch. Instead, he tucked his head into the crook of Sportacus’ shoulder, and he cried until there were no more tears left in him. 

“Why did you send Eight?” Robbie asked finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was cradled still in Sportacus’ arms, and Robbie was absentmindedly fidgeting with a toggle on the hero’s vest. 

Sportacus tensed. “Did he…” he started. “Is that what this is all about?” he asked. “Did he yell at you?” 

So Sportacus was aware of how his brother could be. But how aware, Robbie wasn’t sure. 

“I would say he did a fair share more than yell.” 

Sportacus straightened up, backed away just enough to look Robbie in the eye. “What did he do?” 

“Why did you send him?” Robbie asked again. “ _Why?_ When you _knew_ that he was asked to leave Lazytown for being an asshole!” 

Sportacus shook his head. “What are you talking about? He left because he thought it was boring here!” he insisted. “He thought it would be good for Nine to come here and get some experience!” 

“ _No_ ,” Robbie said sternly, “the mayor _asked_ him to leave because he’s _terrible_ , Sportacus!” He watched the hero’s face go pale, then continued, “He’s worse than you realize, Sportacus. He’s not just pushy, he’s not just mean. He…” He waved a hand, then sighed and looked away. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Sportacus ran his fingers gently through Robbie’s hair, his fingertips ghosting across the flesh behind Robbie’s ear. “I can try.” 

Robbie took a deep breath. “All right. Well, I went up to your ship when you weren’t there,” he started. 

There was a split second where Sportacus looked confused, and then annoyed, and then his expression went back to impartial. 

“I was going to tinker with the controls so that your airship slowly deflated while you were gone. But when I got there… Eight was inside.” 

Robbie continued, wanting terribly to censor himself, ashamed and angry at what had happened in the blimp. But still, he told Sportacus every detail of what Eight had done to him… and what he had planned to do. 

When Robbie finished, he glanced up to Sportacus. 

The expression on the hero’s face was one of pure, white hot rage. Sportacus’ pupils were dark pinpricks in his light eyes, and his face was pale but for two patches of red burning high on his cheeks. His jaw was clenched, a tendon flickering just below his ear lobe. 

“I need to take care of this,” Sportacus grunted. “I _will_ take care of this. But first… are you okay, Robbie? What do you need?” 

“Wait! Don’t… I mean… you don’t need to _tell_ anybody, do you?” 

Perplexed, Sportacus knitted his eyebrows. “Why would I not tell anybody, Robbie? This is… _tawful_. Unspeakable. Robbie, if my brother did this… I can not let this behavior to continue. He must be reprimanded.” 

“He’ll know I’m the one that told you,” Robbie said, his voice pleading. “Sportacus, don’t-” <

But Sportacus brought a gentle hand under Robbie’s chin, tilting his face upwards. “You do not need to worry about him anymore. He will never get near you again.” 

“I don’t want to be left alone,” Robbie said quietly. 

Sportacus frowned. “I do not want to leave you with anyone you are not comfortable with,” he said, “but… there is always Nine. He could come stay while I… address this.” 

Robbie sighed, shivering a bit. “I’m not afraid of Nine. I just don’t like him very much.” 

“Would you… be okay with him? Just for a day? I need to speak with my parents.” 

Finally, Robbie nodded. 

Sportacus nodded back, helped Robbie to his feet, then used his electronic bracer to call somebody. There was more conversation he didn’t understand, Robbie instantly recognizing the voice of Nine. After Sportacus ended the call, Robbie timidly asked, “What if your parents think I’m lying?” 

Bitterly, Sportacus laughed, “Robbie… I am an elf. They will ask my brother what he did, and they will know if he’s lying.”  
Robbie cocked an eyebrow. “Elves can do that?” 

Sportacus nodded. 

“Wait a minute…” Robbie started, the gears turning in his head. “My disguises… does that mean you always…” 

Quietly, Sportacus leaned forward, gently kissed Robbie on the forward, and then left the lair. 

Nine showed up almost alarmingly fast. Robbie thought elves couldn’t use magic, but it was becoming clear that he was wrong. The fae part of him purred at the idea, but a large part of him didn’t even dare to think of the way Sportacus had been there for him the past day- holding him, listening, and the kiss he’d given him before he’d left. Sportacus was overly affectionate, Robbie told himself. It wasn’t Sportacus being that was towards _Robbie_ , it was just how the elf was, what he would have done for anyone. 

Nine insisted that Robbie go outside, and Robbie wasn’t taking well to Nine’s gentle manhandling. The way Nine grabbed his arm, tugged him around a bit- as good natured as it was, as worried as Nine looked, there was something about Nine touching him that set Robbie on edge. 

Still, Robbie had finally managed to go outside for the first time in weeks, and he sat silently on a park bench, soaking in a bit of the spring sun and the cool breeze. He was sitting hunched over, staring at his own knees, when he heard Stephanie approaching. 

“...hey Robbie,” she said softly. “Oh… uhm, hey… Sportacus’ brother.” 

“Nine,” he said, extending a hand to shake with her. “You can call me Ithro.” 

Robbie tensed. “Don’t call him that!” he spat. “Why do elves name all their sons the same thing?! Call him Nine! It makes more sense.” 

Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “Ooooookay. Hey there, Nine. So uhm… are you feeling any better, Robbie? Sportacus said he had to leave again to… get you some medicine, or something?” 

Robbie felt a lump form in his throat. “I’m fine, little girl. Mind your own business!” 

She laughed shortly. “I’ll leave you alone, but… before I go, I made you this.” 

She’d had one hand behind her back the entire time, but Robbie hadn’t been paying attention to that. Now, she pulled out a hand written card, along with a cupcake that was protected in a plastic cupcake holder. It was a blue velvet cupcake, one of his favorite kinds, with white chocolate frosting and purple sprinkles. 

“Oh…” he said softly, taking the cupcake and the card from her. He swallowed, trying unsuccessfully to blink back the sudden tears forming in his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome!” she said. “Well… I’ll talk to you later, Robbie! Nice meeting you, Nine!” 

“What a nice girl!” Nine said cheerfully. “And she even remembered it was your candy day!” 

Robbie scowled. “It is _always_ my candy day, you nitwit.” 

Nine shrugged. “Whatever you say, Robbie.” 

When Sportacus returned again a day later, he looked like he had mentally aged a hundred years. His characteristic grin was gone from his face, and there were deep shadows beneath his eyes. 

Robbie was sitting outside again with Nine when Sportacus found them. For a while, the two brothers were silent. Then Sportacus said, “They used the magic on him. They made him tell the story in front of everybody. Made him tell us what he did.” 

“Sportacus, don’t just tell him out loud what-” 

But Sportacus held up a hand, stopping Robbie mid sentence. 

“He is going to be… dealt with,” Sportacus said lowly. “Thank you for your help, Nine.” 

Looking sad, Nine nodded. “Any time, little brother.” 

Sportacus’ eyes flickered to Robbie, and he extended an arm. Without so much as thinking about it, Robbie took it, boosting himself up and letting Sportacus lead him through Lazytown. After a while, Sportacus said, “I am sorry, Robbie, for what my brother did to you. I am sorry for what you suffered.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Robbie said, his voice breaking. He shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers toying with a frayed bit of thread inside. His regular clothes were all in the wash, and he’d put on a pair of black slacks, a white button up with his purple jacket, and a pair of brown dress shoes. He felt terribly over dressed for how miserable he felt, as if he were about to attend a funeral. 

Sportacus sighed. “Our family let him act like that, without repercussion, for a long time. We never knew he was worse than we expected.” He led Robbie through the community garden, stopping beneath the shade of a tree. “We can tell someone is lying if we choose to see the truth. But it is… unpleasant… to tap into that ability with family and friends if there is no need.” 

“I understand,” Robbie said. “Sportacus, you don’t have to be s-” He glanced up, then went silent. Sportacus was staring at him intently, the elf’s eyes soft and wide, his lips flushed, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. And he was leaning in, every so slightly, more and more as the moment passed. Robbie’s bottom lip fell open on its own accord, his own eyes going wide, his gaze lingering on Sportacus’ bottom lip. Robbie’s tongue snuck out, wetted his lips. 

“You…” Sportacus started, his voice guttural. He swallowed, leaned forward more… 

Robbie closed his eyes, waiting, his breath trapped in his throat and his heart pounding in his ears. 

“...you should… get some rest…” Sportacus finished. 

Stunned, Robbie opened his eyes again, staring at the elf. Sportacus had backed up again, his arms held down to his sides and his hands clenched into fists. His cheeks were beet red, and he was already turning away. 

“...wait,” Robbie whispered, reaching to him. 

Sportacus flinched. 

“I can’t,” Sportacus said, his voice rough. “Not now. Not after what Ithro did.” 

“Ten…I need you,” Robbie whispered. 

That was all it took. Sportacus turned back towards him, gently looping his fingers with Robbie’s. He leaned in, arching up on his toes, his nose bumping gently against the other man's. Then their lips met, and it was warm and soft and perfect, and Robbie groaned and purred, and Sportacus wrapped his arms around Robbie’s waist and hoisted him into his arms and carried him back to behind the billboard, where Robbie toppled down onto Sportacus and began grinding his cock against the hero’s leg, their tongues tangling and their lips swollen and wet. 

_“Fuck me,”_ Robbie moaned. 

Sportacus glanced around once to see that no one was around, then undid first his belt, and then Robbie’s, and then his fingers came and unbuttoned Robbie’s shirt.  
“Start slow,” Robbie cooed, nipping at Sportacus’ earlobe, “but you don’t need to be too gentle.” 

Sportacus tangled his fingers into the back of Robbie’s hair. “I’ll be as gentle with you as I want,” he growled. He scooted back, sitting against the pipe to Robbie’s lair, and pulled the other man onto his lap. “Do you have anything?” 

Robbie snapped his fingers, a bottle of lube appearing beside them. “Fae magic,” he said, winking at Sportacus. 

Sportacus chuckled deeply. “I know it’s fae magic,” he said, opening Robbie’s shirt and sliding his palms up the other man’s chest. “I knew you were part fae the moment I saw you.” 

Robbie leaned into his touch, pressing his knees on either side of Sportacus’ thighs. He unzipped the elf’s fly, feeling cock already hard. Robbie pulled it out slowly, teasingly, the pad of his thumb skimming along the underneath of the head until it dribbled precum. 

The hero’s eyes rolled back in his eyes, and he let out a long, slow hiss of pleasure. 

“You’ve got a taste for handsome fae men?” Robbie asked, pumping Sportacus’ cock faster. 

“Taste for _you_ ,” Sportacus huffed out. One of his hands gripped Robbie around the waist, while the other fished for the bottle of lube, popping it open and coating his fingers with it. Robbie helped him, pulling his own slacks down until the were around his ankles. Sportacus reached one hand back under Robbie and pressed a finger to his hole, and Robbie relaxed against it, relishing in the slight burn as Sportacus pushed in up to his knuckle. 

“Too fast?” Sportacus asked, his pupils blown wide. 

“Nnnn… no… ‘s good.” Robbie waited until he’d added another finger, then started riding on them, panting at the feeling of his own cock brushing against the hero’s warm flesh. Sportacus added another finger, scissored Robbie open, and then Robbie grabbed the hero’s cock, lined himself up, and sank down on him to the hilt. 

_“Fuck,”_ Sportacus gasped, grabbing Robbie tighter until their chests were pressing together. “You feel so good, Robbie.” 

“Take this off,” Robbie said softly, pulling Sportacus’ hat off his head and tossing it to the side. “Much better, don’t you think?” He ran his fingers through the hero’s blond strands, noticing how Sportacus ground his hips up sharply each time he caressed the pointed tips of his ears. “Sensitive?” Robbie teased. He nibbled at one of the elf’s ears with the tips of his teeth, making Sportacus buck beneath him. “So it’s really true about this being an erogenous zone for elves?” 

Sportacus just smiled, pulling Robbie in and kissing him deeply as he fucked up into him slowly. Soon Robbie had his arms wrapped around Sportacus’ neck, his body relaxed and pliant while he let the hero thrust into him. The head of Sportacus’ cock rubbed again and again over Robbie’s prostate, making him leak and smear precum across the hero’s abs, and finally the friction was too much, and Robbie could feel himself tipping to the point of no return. 

“ _Hhhhnnnn_ gonna cum…” Robbie moaned, grabbing down at his cock and feeling Sportacus’ hand joining with his own. 

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Sportacus groaned into his ear, “cum on my cock…” 

The filthy words coming from the hero’s mouth sent Robbie over the edge, and as white hot pleasure shot through him, he bit down on Sportacus’ shoulder to stifle the shout that rose in the back of his throat. He was still riding out his orgasm when suddenly Sportacus dug his fingers hard into Robbie’s hips. 

“I _don’t_ have to be gentle?” he asked with a smirk. 

“I told you to _fuck_ me, didn’t I?” 

With that, Sportacus began hammering up into Robbie, balls slapping against the bottom of his ass, making Robbie writhe and whine and keen as he toppled forward and let the hero support all of his weight. A minute later, the hero snarled and bared his teeth, pumped his hips a few more times, then came deeply inside of Robbie, his cock stuffed up into him as far as it would go. 

Robbie felt the release of spunk inside of him and blushed, his entire body on fire and overly sensitive as he pawed at his own softening member. He touched his nose to the elf’s, both of them panting for breath, and gently kissed him once before breathing out a soft, _“Love you.”_

As soon as it left his mouth, Robbie tensed, realizing what he’d said. 

But Sportacus kissed him back, holding him there as the breeze blew the soft waves of his hair back from his face. “Love you too.” 

Robbie blinked in disbelief. “Really?” he asked, afraid to even question it. 

“Really really,” Sportacus said. “Nnnnf. Don’t love this pipe opening on my spine, though. And- don’t tell anybody I said this- but I could use a quick nap. I get a little… sleepy after sex.” 

Robbie smirked. “Seriously? All this time, and all I had to do to stop you was make you cum?” 

“It’ll take way more than one time,” Sportacus said, grinning. “Give me ten minutes to sleep, and I can fuck you after that again…” He kissed Robbie, winding their tongues together. “… and again…” He raked his fingernails over Robbie’s nipples, pinching and teasing them. “…and again.” 

Despite his best efforts to be exhausted, Robbie felt himself getting hard again already. 

“What happens if your crystal goes off?” Robbie asked thickly, his mind blurring around the edges with pleasure. 

“Then you’d better stay open and wet for me until I come back,” Sportacus answered. He pulled lightly at Robbie’s hair, sending a ripple of goosebumps down Robbie’s arms. 

Blissfully, Sportacus’ crystal did _not_ go off that day. He did, however, fall asleep promptly at 8:08, after a thorough round of fucking that left Robbie a limp, whimpering mess of limbs. And the next morning, when Sportacus climbed out of Robbie’s lair only to be spotted by Bessie and Milford as they walked by, Robbie swore that Sportacus turned cherry red from head to toe. 


End file.
